


As the Darkness Takes Over

by makenalei



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, F/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-14 12:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makenalei/pseuds/makenalei
Summary: As the flickering flames of the sparkling gold candles disappeared with a gust of breath, she made her wish, the very last wish that she would ever make. This year, she wished for death, and they all smiled and clapped without knowing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning- mentions suicide and other tough subjects....
> 
> Just something that's been sitting in my folder waiting to be published. Let me know what you think!

**Chapter 1: The Decision**

The cake was beautiful, a massive three tiered creation from one of the most exclusive and expensive bakers in the capital city, or so everyone said. It was a monstrous red and gold creation, which were her least favorite colors in the world. It glittered under the massive chandelier, light bouncing around as cameras flashed. The candles represented her age, plus one for good luck. She wanted to scoff at that. She had no luck in this cruel life. If anything, she had the opposite of luck. The sparkly gold candles burned bright as the entire room sang to her, all of the voices blurring together in her head. The wax dripped down onto the cake, slowly but surely. They were melting, like icicles in the north on the first warm spring day.

“ _Happy birthday to you,_ ” They sang loudly, voices tinged with alcohol and fake cheer.

Of course, the party was just as massive as the cake. Dozens upon dozens of people that she barely knew had been invited to celebrate her 23rd year. They were all dressed to the nines, swathed in priceless silks and dripping in rare jewels. Her birthday was a huge social event, the kind that she would have loved to attend back when she was naïve and innocent, but she hadn’t been naïve or innocent for many years. Years with the monster she called her fiancé had hardened her to the truth of the world. Years of putting on a mask and smiling for society had made her a pro at the ripe old age of 23. She knew that no one here truly cared about her, no; they just cared about her money and her connections. They cared about being seen at the party of the year with the golden capital couple. They cared about themselves, just like everyone else. She didn’t blame them, per se, since she had once cared only for herself as well. It was easy to be blinded by the glitter and gold when you were so deep into it all.

“ _Happy birthday to you,_ ”

He had his arm around her, his hand resting on her bare shoulder. It felt like a weight holding her down, dragging her further and further into the dark depths of her own cruel hell. Every time he touched her, she flashed back to the other times he touched the same skin. She thought of the bruise on her cheek that was covered by layers upon layers of makeup, makeup that had taken hours to painstakingly apply. She thought of the handprint on her ribcage and the fingerprints around her wrists. She thought of his rage filled attacks and his hatred-fueled words. She fought the urge to remove his hand, to throw it off of her shoulders, to yell the truth to the entire crème de la crème of society. She dreamt of it often, of telling the world the truth about him. But she could not. She lacked the courage and the strength to pull away. 

“ _Happy birthday, dear Sansa_ ,”

The worst part about it all was that she knew it was wrong, but she still couldn’t pull away from him. She had given up everything to be with him. She had forsaken her family, her friends, everyone save for him and his family. She had no one to save her, and she couldn’t save herself at this point. She was powerless to stop it, or at least it felt that way. After some time though, she grew used to it. She grew to accept her fate. She began to believe that perhaps she had deserved this outcome in life. She saw no way to turn it around, so she began to think differently.  She began to concoct a new goal in life, a new reason to smile and fake it.

“ _Happy birthday to you!_ ”

This year as she delicately blew out the candles, due to bruised ribs, she decided that she knew what she wanted to wish for, what she wanted to accomplish in her 23rd  year of life. Resolution grew in the pit of her stomach as she hardened herself to the idea. Hope bloomed as well though, the promise of soon being free making her smile a bit more genuine then it would have been. That same smile grew in size as she made her wish, knowing that the jaunty, cheery crowd had no idea what it was she was wishing for. She could only imagine looks of horror and pity that she would receive if they could hear her inner thoughts.

As the flickering flames of the candles disappeared with a gust of breath, she made her wish, the very last wish that she would ever make. This year, she wished for death, and they all smiled and clapped without knowing.

There came a point in her life, a point when it’s wasn’t that she didn’t care anymore, she just couldn’t care, because she knew that if she did, she was just going to get hurt all over again. It was a defense mechanism. She decided that it just wasn’t worth it to hope as she blew out the candles on her cake, the cake that was done in the colors that she detested.

His true hatred always amazed her. It blew her mind that he hated her enough to recall her least favorite colors and use them against her. He put that much effort into making her life just a bit more miserable, a bit more painful. It was psychological warfare.

And she couldn’t live with that pain anymore.

She had tried so hard for so long to keep it inside, to keep it together. She spent years wearing a mask, projecting happiness and joy as she slowly died inside. She spent hours upon hours layering her makeup in a literal mask to hide the bruises and burns he left on her fair skin. She knew that she had finally hit the end though. Everything in her being was dead now. She could no longer muster up the strength to project anything, to cover, to lie. False words and false smiles were too hard now.

The worst part was that he knew that he won. He knew that she had given up. She could see it in the smile he gave her every time he crept closer to her. She could see it in his eyes as he half-heartedly insulted her, tore her down just a little bit more. He wasn’t even trying that hard because he knew that she had lost.  He won, and she lost. It took eleven years to accomplish it. It had to be the best achievement in his pathetic life thus far. She hoped that he was proud of himself.

She didn’t want him to win though, so she made a plan. She called it her final act. It would be her best performance thus far. Every last detail was planned to a T. It’s was perfect plan, far more perfect then she could ever have dreamed up years ago when she first met him and began to plan their life together.

For once in her life, luck was on her side. The opportunity came at just the right time. A huge dinner party for his mother, a woman that hated her just as much as he did. A woman that treated her near as badly as him. A monster in an angel’s cloak.

It was the perfect event for her to take her life. The Lannister Estate had a huge double staircase with a balcony that overlooked the foyer. His mother would make her grand entrance there. If she timed it perfectly, her body would hit the golden tiles at the bottom just as Cersei Lannister made her first appearance. The dark red blood would match the Lannister hue, and coupled with the smashed golden tiles, it would be quite decorative. She could picture it now, her blue eyes unseeing, her limbs contorted and broken. She would wear no makeup to cover her scars and bruises. She would wear her wedding dress as well to add to the dramatics of it all.

It was going to be perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

She hid in the shadows, dressed in her slinky white gown. It was nothing like the lace gown that she had wished to wear for her own wedding. It was too thin and strappy, too modern and revealing for a wedding. It had a v cut on the neck and spaghetti string straps. There was a god-awful slit as well. Her hair was pulled back off of her face so that when she hit the ground, they would see her face. They were see the bruises and the scars that she left uncovered for that very purpose. It would be impossible for them to deny the truth.

Downstairs in the main foyer, everyone was getting ready for the grand entrance. There were still a few minutes before Cersei would arrive. She positioned herself so that she was above them, so that they would not see her before she landed, but Cersei and Joffrey would. Joffrey, the ever obedient son, was escorting his mother down the stairs. He had matched his golden bowtie to Cersei’s golden dress instead of matching the maroon one that she was supposed to wear.

He had told her to wait in the foyer for him, that he would find her when he wanted to. She had smiled and nodded, promising to wait near stairs for him. She told him how wonderful it was that he was doing this for his mother, praised him on being a good son. He had slapped her lazily for it, not quite feeling up to fully beating her, he supposed.

There were guards on the second floor, but on the third floor, she was essentially alone. No one but family had access to these floors. There were keycards that forbade it. She just had to wait in the shadows until the music started, and Cersei appeared on the second floor balcony. She would smile brightly as she began her descent down the steps, Joffrey on her arm. She would stop in the middle and thank everyone for coming before starting off again. Nine steps, and then she would reach the bottom. Then she would jump.

She had dreamt of it, of falling. She read online that you were most likely to die if you fell from a height of more then three times your personal height. She was just under 6 feet, tall for a girl. Joffrey had always insulted her height. He was short for a boy. He was only 5’10. The third floor balcony put her at just over 35 feet. The third and second floors were ten feet each, and the first floor boasted 15 foot ceilings, not to mention the soft cushion that she would land on was actually priceless Pentoshi marble.

She closed her eyes and listened to the chattering beneath her. It was filled with laughter and merriment. She could picture society dressed in their fine clothing once again, sipping their chutes of bubbly with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires dripping off their fingers. Some would pick at the delicious smelling appetizers that were being circulated around the room on gold gilded platters, while others would starve themselves just to maintain that size zero waistline.

She thought of her last meal. It had been toast with jelly. She thought of the letters sitting on Myrcella’s bed. The sixteen-year-old had been deemed old enough to attend the event, so she had snuck into the empty room and hid them under her pillows, hoping that the girl would post them for her. She had no faith that Cersei or Joff would do it. She thought of the horror and grief and disappointment that her family would feel when they read her words, learned of the truth. She thought of her siblings, and how they would react. Would they be angry at her? Would they care that she had died? Would Rickon even remember her? Would Arya come to her funeral? Would Robb beat Joffrey to a pulp? She had been so awful, so mean. She had put the barriers between them, she had pulled away. And her parents. They would grieve her, she knew. Her mother would be angry. Her father would shoulder the blame even though she had expressed in her letter how he was not at fault, how none of them were.

She just had to hope that they could eventually forgive her. She hoped that her words and her wishes would be enough to assure them that this was not their fault, that it was her decision, and hers alone. She said a quick prayer to the gods that she no longer believed in to help them through, and then the music was playing. She stepped closer to the railing to see Cersei and Joffrey emerge at the top of the stairs. The room went quiet beneath them. Everyone was watching.

She stepped closer, inhaling her last few breaths of life. It tasted sweeter now that she knew it would all soon end.

Cersei and Joff looked like a perfect couple instead of the mom and son that they were. Joff was the spitting image of the late Jaime Lannister. He looked so handsome and suave in his fitted tux and slicked back hair. He looked like an angel when his soul resembled that of the devil’s. Perfect on the outside but rotten on the inside. He smiled charmingly as he led his mother down the stairs. She could tell the exact moment that he failed to find her in the crowd. His green eyes darkened and for a moment she could see the anger behind them. She could see the rage building. His mother’s smile faltered for a quick second as well. Her son was holding her too tight in his anger.

They reached the middle of the steps.

 _“Ladies and gentlemen of King’s Landing”_ Cersei launched into her speech about thanks and giving back. The crowd lapped it up. She tuned it out. She didn’t want Cersei’s self importance to be the last thing she heard. She wanted to remember her mother singing to her when she was a child or her father’s wise words when she came to him with a problem.

“Sansa?” She startled at the child’s voice, whipping around to find Tommen standing in his pajamas, one of his kittens in his bathrobe pocket. His blonde curls were adorably ruffled and he was wiping sleep from his light blue eyes.

“Tommen, go back to bed, honey” She murmured, looking behind her to make sure Cersei was still droning on. She was.

“I can’t sleep” Tommen murmured, stepping closer so that he too could look out into the party beneath them, “I can hear the music, it’s too loud,” He told her honestly.

“Tommen, honey, go back to bed. I’ll come read you a story later, yeah?” She hated lying, but she was going to miss her opportunity. Her heart was racing as her window to act grew smaller and smaller. Despite her self destructive plan, she was not about to take Tommen down with her. Witnessing such an act would mess him up more then he already was with just being a member of the Lannister family.

“Are you okay, Sansa?” Tommen questioned, looking at her face with a frown, “Was Joff mean to you?” He questioned in a way that only a seven-year-old could.

“Please, Tommen, go to bed,” She begged, praying that he would just leave her be.  He gave her a frown but nodded. He surged forward first though, wrapping his chubby arms around her waist, pressing his face against her stomach in a surprisingly tight hug.

“I wish Joffrey was nice to you,” Tommen murmured, “When I’m bigger I’ll make him be nice to you, so that you want to stay with us. I wish you were my family instead of Joffrey,” He pouted.

“I always want to stay with you, Tommen,” She ruffled his blonde locks, “Now run off to bed, little cub. It’s late, your baby kitten needs his rest,” Tommen nodded seriously and disappeared into the shadows that led to his room. 

She turned back to the ledge, looking over as her heart sank. It was too late. Cersei was already in the crowds, and Joff was searching for her. She couldn’t do it now anyways. She could only imagine the pain that little Tommen would feel if he found out what she had done shortly after speaking with him.

She backed into the shadows, heading towards Myrcella’s room. She slipped into the chambers and grabbed the things that she had stashed there. She picked up the diary that had been her only companion for the past few years. She had left it for Myrcella to return to her family. Joffrey would look for her in her own chambers, but he would never think of checking Myrcella’s. She tore out a page to write a write a short note to the only two in this capital city that made her life halfway bearable.

_Dearest Cella & Toe, _ _I am sorry but I had to leave. Do not listen to what is said but remember what you know. You are both amazing, and I wish you nothing but the best in life. Follow your dreams, no matter who says you can’t achieve them._ _Love Always, S_

It was concise and short. Myrcella would tell Tommen what it said. She was a smart girl. She was strong. She could handle the truth when it came out, if it ever came out. She hid that letter where the diary had been. She took one of Myrcella’s coats from her closet, and stuffed the diary into the inner pocket. She stole a few bills from Cella’s wallet, feeling guilty but not overly so. She snuck to the window and scoped out the estate. Security was tight because of the event, but they were looking for people sneaking in tonight, not sneaking out.

She shimmied down the trellis that Myrcella used to sneak out some nights. The sixteen-year-old had confided in her a few weeks ago that she was seeing a Dornish exchange student named Trystan. He sounded like a good boy for Cella.

She got mud on her white gown but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like she was wearing it to a wedding anymore. Surveying the line of cars and limos that were parked outside the estate, she picked a non descript black town car as her escape. She knocked on the window, smiling when the driver startled. He rolled down his window.

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks for a ride out of that lame party, my date’s wife showed up” She told him, grinning. In the dim light, he couldn’t see her bruised face or black eye. He eyed the bill in her hand before nodding. She took the back seat, and marveled at her luck. Her driver had no interest in talking with her, and when they went to the gate to leave, her told the man working security that he was driving “the young girl” because she drank too much bubbly, but that he would be back for her mother, Ms. Tanda Stokeworth. She knew the name, but not well.

She had the man drive her towards the bridge to Flea Bottom. She had him leave her at the side of the empty road. She gave him the crisp bills and told him thanks. He drove off without questioning what she wanted with an empty bridge in a rough area of the city at this time of night.

She hopped up onto the guardrail, swinging her legs over. The Blackwater River rushed beneath her, churning and frothy. Her mother could tell her why the usually lazy river acted so violent here. Her mother knew all about water, from rivers to ponds to oceans. She didn’t care though. All she cared about was getting it over with. She had lost the opportunity to do it with a grand audience. She had lost the shock factor of the crème de la crème of society seeing her bruised, broken face. There would have been no way to cover the truth then, but now she had to act smart. She had to make sure her side of the story was told. 

She pulled out her diary and started writing.

_“Sansa Elizabeth Stark, 23, met her end on the 5 th of March, 2016 via the Blackwater River bridge.   
Sansa was of the North. She grew up happy with her four siblings, all of whom she loved deeply. _

_In September of 2007, Sansa made one of the worst choices in her life. She chose to attend King’s Academy, where she would go on to meet her future fiancé, Joffrey Lannister, son of the late alcoholic, Robert Baratheon, and current alcoholic, Cersei Lannister.  
In December of 2007, she made another disastrous choice. She chose to date Joffrey Baratheon. Convinced that Joffrey loved her, she chose to stay in the capital city instead of returning home for the holidays. She would never again return. _

_After high school, she attended King’s University and attained a degree in art history, though her childhood dream has always been to go into nursing. Nonetheless, she was a frequent flyer at KL Memorial, where she would go on to win the record of visits to the emergency room, with a career total of: breaking her wrist 4 times, her ribs 9 times, her leg 2 times, and her ankle once as her then boyfriend struggled through law school, taking his frustrations out on her, like always.  
She would average a total of twenty stitches a visit with a career high of 78 after Joffrey pushed her into a mirror. She also enjoyed frequenting the makeup store on fifth, where she could buy foundation thick enough to cover her bruises from the prying eyes of society. She accepted a job at Lannister Co, the business enemy of her own father. Regrettably, she worked there until the time of her death._

_Sansa leaves behind a loving family in Winterfell, her parents, Ned and Catelyn, her brother Robb of White Harbor, sister Arya of Braavos, brother Bran of the Neck, and Rickon of Winterfell. She is also lovingly survived by Myrcella and Tommen Baratheon. Those who are causative agents in her death include Joffrey Baratheon, the sadistic bastard that tortured her for 9 years while cheating on her with her best friend, Margaery Tyrell Baratheon, and Cersei Lannister, the bitter dowager that was as emotionally abusive as her son was physical._

_Sansa was a bright, vibrant girl with an equally bright future before her, that was cut tragically short due to the viper’s nest the kingdom calls a capital city and the family that they let run it in a mob like fashion. As a naïve young girl, she cared too much about what people would think, and by the time that she realized it wasn’t about that, it was too late. She was too far gone. She wants her family to know that she is sorry and that she knows it was wrong. She wants Joffrey to know he finally won. He defeated her. She offers her sincerest congratulations and wishes him the best in his future marriage to Maggie._

_Services will be held in the North for residents of the North only. Sansa’s body, or what’s left of it after the river runs its course, will be buried off estate as she does not wish to sully her family’s good name. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Battered Women’s Justice Department (BWJD). Sansa would like it noted that the picture featured is one after she did not have dinner ready by four because she was at the hospital getting her leg cast off. The bruises are courtesy of Joffrey Lannister,”_

 

She scribbled out sentences and words, trying to find the best fit. It would be her lasting legacy after all, the one thing left of her after she jumped. She didn’t want to sound crass but she didn’t want to leave anything to chance either. It had to be precise and exact. There had to be no doubt left that Joffrey Lannister was an evil man. She stuffed the pictures in as well, a few polaroid shots of a sad looking girl with big blue eyes and bruises dancing across all planes of her pale white skin.

She heard the car before she saw the low lights in her peripheral. She prayed for them to continue driving but she knew it was futile. The car had turned their lights low as to not startle her. They had clearly seen her, and the were clearly intent on stopping to check on her. She heard a car door open then shut softly, and then she could hear boots on the gravel, slow and cautious. She tensed, getting ready to fall to prevent whomever it was from stopping her.


End file.
